


Don't Let Go

by SassyFlamingo2



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Grell is a Drama queen, Literature, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-10 18:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19511932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyFlamingo2/pseuds/SassyFlamingo2
Summary: In a world where the first speech you hear your soulmate say is written on your arm, the words "I'm going to kill myself" appear on your sixteenth birthday. Misunderstandings ensue that cause you to first be placed in a insane asylum, then escape to the unforgiving streets of London. Finally, you are arriving at the Dalles mansion for the position as a new maid when you find a young man with long burgundy hair and attempting to kill himself......





	Don't Let Go

(Warning! Mentions of abuse, self-harm, and depression.)

#### Soulmate AU! where the first words that your soulmate says to you is written on your wrist

_I'm going to kill myself..._

Not exactly the most encouraging words for a soulmate is it?

That strip of elegantly inked words has been etched into your wrist for as long as you can remember, causing trouble since the moment they appeared on the morning of your 16th birthday. As the daughter of one of the most socially prominent families in Victorian society, it was expected that your soulmate would be of a high standard of living too but the discouraging words on your wrist spoke otherwise. At first, your parents believed that you had inked those words into your skin instead of it being your soulmate's first utterance, ordering the maid to scrub your skin till it oozed bright red blood. No one of proper standing would say such dishonorable words, so for a daughter of the upper class to have a low society mate was an unmentionable insult. You fought against every attempt to remove the script, often resulting in black eyes and deep purple bruises that spread across your skin. Rather than face what events would lie ahead, your parents had you committed to an insane asylum, just four weeks after your milestone birthday.

The next four years crept by at a snail's pace. Kept in isolation because of the supposed "self-harm risk", the only companionship you encountered was the metal meal tray shoved through a tiny slot in the door and the screaming howls of despair from the ward's other occupants. With nothing to see or do to entertain yourself, your mind turned inwards. Sometimes you daydreamed of how warm the sunshine would feel on your skin, the cool kiss of a rain scented breeze, the calming hum of fat bees drifting lazily from flower to flower. Other times, your thoughts turned to your soulmate, what he looked like or sounded like. Would he be tall and strong with long hair waving brazenly in the breeze? Or would he be smaller and shy, the quiet boy who was ignored in favor of others. At least he could comfort you in your dreams, because dreams were all you had left...

It was on the day of your 22nd birthday that the door to your cell swung open, filling the darkened room with a harsh wash of light. "You're free to go." The bespectacled man in the long white coat said, motioning you on to your long awaited freedom. You rose on trembling legs, barely able to believe that this was real and not some medication induced dream. With no other belongings aside from the thin cotton dress on your back, you ventured out onto the tumultuous streets of East London. In addition to yourself being freed from the asylum, every other resident had also been freed as well with no regard to their true mental state. The former residents were smashing windows, attacking other people, and a few had even figured out how to set a building ablaze. In other words, pure chaos. Without a second thought, you merged into a mob of screaming people and fled the scene, heading south towards downtown London and hopefully somewhere where you could spend the night. 

When you arrived in downtown proper, it almost seemed like the fates had aligned to provide you with a better life than the one you just left. A hunchbacked old man, his hair frosted silver with age, was closing up his carpentry shop for the night when you came staggering down the street. He immediately took pity on your scrawny, ragged form and invited you inside, providing you with a hot meal and a place to sleep. When you told him you had no money for repayment, he laughed heartily, saying that Elizabeth would welcome the company. He guided you to his apartment above the shop where a tiny, elfen like grey haired woman puttered about. She squealed in excitement, immediately fussing over your exhausted state and scolding her husband for not bringing you here in the first place. You quickly learned that their names were Otis and Camilla, a childless couple who co-owned a carpentry shop and were nearly ready to retire. When they learned of your sordid tale of sadness and betrayal, they insisted that you stay. 

Another year passed but this one was much happier. You stayed with Otis and Camilla and started working in their shop, swiftly becoming the daughter that they had never had. Camilla made it her mission to help you find your soulmate as her mother had helped her many years ago, but you were doubtful. Working in the shop with Otis had given you a bird's eye view of the harsh financial struggle that many of the working class citizens faced. Where you had one thought that your soulmate was suffering from unknown plague, maybe it wasn't true, maybe he was just simply having an extremely hard time with working and was severely depressed. One day, a notice was slipped under the door, Otis and Camilla had to pay 200,000 pounds as a 'protection fee' by the end of the month or their shop would be destroyed. Even with all of their hard work, the savings of 150,000 pounds just wasn't enough. So when you heard that a Lady Angelina Dalles was looking for a new maid _and_ willingly to pay quite handsomely for the position as well, you packed your things and set off for the Dalles mansion immediately. If the advertisement was true, that last pesky 50,000 pounds would be raised in no time at all.

Imagine your surprise when you arrived at the listed address to find a young man, tall and thin, dressed as a typical butler with large round glasses placed on his slender face, and a long burgundy ponytail streaming down his back attempting to launch himself out of a huge elm tree in the front yard of the mansion.

"What in the h*** do you think you're doing!" Flinging your suitcase into some conveniently placed bushes, you hiked your skirt up into your hands and ran straight ahead. Startled by your screams and sudden approach, he slipped, falling through a few layers of branches before landing straddle of a large limb nearly as big around as your entire body. Ouch. 

The slender man in the tree leaned up and glanced down at your panting figure, his dull green-gold eyes leaking a stream of tears down his cheeks. "I'm going to kill myself..." he mumbled, just barely audible over the ominous creaking of the tree limb against his weight. Your eyes widened under the weight of what your brain was slowly processing. Those words... Those words were the ones that stared you in the face everyday since you were sixteen. The words that you had fought so hard to keep and had sent you to an asylum in exchange. The hopes and dreams stored in that phrase kept you sane for four long years. Now a year of searching had resulted your soulmate on the verge of removing himself from the word entirely before you could even get to know him. Not. Gonna. Happen.

"You don't really want to kill yourself, do you? Why don't come down and let's talk? I promise, I'm a really good listener." You pleaded, slightly out of breath from your sprint, one hand open and stretched upwards in a silent plea for your soulmate to take.

"I'm sick of talking! I'm sick of trying to cook or clean or fix anything when it just falls apart as soon as I touch it! Everyone hates me for all the extra mess and work I create... even my mistress hates me because I can't do anything right." His bottom lip trembled as he spoke. His left hand clawed at the sleeve of his black jacket, a hidden phrase in black ink emerging from the rumpled sleeve. "Look!" He shouted, a long suppressed madness gleaming in his eyes as he waved his arm down for you to see. _"What in the h*** do you think you're doing?"_ If there had been any doubt remaining in your mind, this cleared it faster than a knife swipe. Apparently misunderstanding your silent realization as revulsion, he cackled loudly. "Surprised, aren't you? Everyone is. That old myth about your soulmate's first words being loving ones is horse s***! I've heard those words nearly every day of my life till I'm sick of them!" The disgust and bitterness dripped from his words like acid, his face twisting into a scowl as he viewed those words written on his arm again. Then, his knife sharp gaze shifted to you, spearing you with what felt like a hundred years worth of self hatred in that single glance. "You're so pretty, I bet your words were something all dreamy and romantic and you had no trouble finding your soulmate. You wouldn't know what it's like living with words like these on your arm."

"You mean words like these?" You rolled up the sleeve of your dress, revealing the words that he had uttered scarcely just moments ago. With the height boost provided by standing on the very edge of your tippy-toes, your fingers were just able to skim his thin ones before they tightened. The slender digits nearly crushing yours in their chilled grip in shock, his mouth falling open as he read the words etched along the toned skin of your arm. "There has been a few times that I nearly gave up on having a soulmate as well, but then I met a couple who taught me the true love and passion that soulmates share." You glanced up shyly through the thick fringe of your lashes. "I'd really like to know my soulmate, if it's all right with you?"

Still holding your hand like he was a drowning man and you were the lifeline to save him, he slid down out of the tree.... and right into you. The two of you sent tumbling into the soft green grass in a tangle of limbs, both of you landing on your sides and eye to eye. Almost immediately he springs up, as if he was electrically shocked by the close contact with you, and starts apologizing. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry. I did it again. I'm so sorry." 

You wave off his frantic apologies and the proffered hand, climbing to your feet and dusting the remnants of grass clinging to your dress. "It's fine. A little bump and knock won't hurt me. Trust me, I've been through much worse." You smiled reassuringly but he didn't seem convinced, that pinched look of anxiety still showing on his face. 

"Ho-How much worse?"

Totally surprised, you motioned for him to sit down beneath the tree and, tucking your skirt underneath your legs, you did as well. You've told your tale only once before to Otis and Camilla, but even they didn't listen with the rapt attention that your soulmate showed you. His groans of sympathetic pain when you describe how your parents had attempted to remove your soulmate mark. The breathless gasp and tears that fell when you describe the endless days and nights in the asylum. The radiant smile that grew when you described your joy of escaping and finding a life on your own, far away from your controlling parents influence. When your saga came to an end, he was crying whether in joy or sadness you didn't know, but his arms opened wide like wings, snapping you up and clutching you to his chest like a doll. "Oh, my darling angel. Here I was complaining about making a mess when you've truly been through h*** and back for little ole me. You are a saint of the highest order! I pledge myself to making sure that your every wish is granted for the rest of our days." He babbled all the while rocking you back and forth. You appreciated his enthusiasm but the deprivation of air was beginning to turn your skin a light blue color. Smacking his arm a few times with your limp hand seem to gain his attention from his ramblings because he released you and resumed his string of apologies.

"It's okay," you muttered hoarsely. "I just needed a little air."

"Of course, I'm so sorry, Angel. If I could ask, what is your full name so that I may have it inscribed on my heart forever?"

You were quickly becoming fond of his dramatic actions so you replied as dramatically possible in turn. "I am the lady (y/n)(l/n), and who may I have the pleasure of calling my lover for eternity?"

He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles, a purely devilish smile full of wicked sharp teeth appeared. "The name is Grell Sutcliff, my heart."

*Epilogue*

The next day, a blaring headline was featured on the front page of the local newspaper. "Renowned wealthy family slaughtered in their own home. The only evidence being the trail of a chainsaw like weapon. The family is survived by one heir, an unnamed daughter. Within the next few days, the daughter and her loyal butler will be taken possession of the entire estate. 

In other news, twelve men previously identified as members of a gang that had previously been harassing various merchants in the downtown area were found completely slaughtered. No evidence has come forth yet as to the identity of the murderer.   


**Author's Note:**

> Commission for a user who wishes to remain anonymous.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! This fic is also listed on my Deviantart happydoo2
> 
> Black Butler and all characters do not belong to me.  
> The idea belongs to me.  
> You belong to Grell.


End file.
